Ren's Language
by BerryEbilBunny
Summary: To Jeanne, Ren has never talked much. Just grunted a command and mumbled a request or shouted out in anger or fear. Sometimes he would whisper comfortingly to their child or murmur sleepily into her ear. Then there were times that he made thoughtful noises or sounds of relief or agreement. She didn't mind much because he has always been there. He has always been there for her.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Shaman King.**

**AN: I know this isn't going to be very popular but I would appreciate any feedback. This story may not seem to flow very well because I have written it over the course of this year so therefore it seems rather distracted because I do too much at once. I am sorry. Please don't hate me.**

He gets distracted easily and he's terrible at communicating what he's thinking most of the time, and he's not the greatest at holding his temper, but he's a great father. He's also a wonderful lover and perfect at protecting his family and his beliefs. At least he acknowledged her existence despite all his faults. That's all she needed in a husband, right? Right?

Visibly, Jeanne sighed at her own bitter train of thought towards her young husband. Behind her, Ren, the problematic husband in question, was writing down various calculations and curly paragraphs in a plain notebook, scheming various attempts to change the world as he bounced their only child good-naturally on his leg. Their Men, the smart, cute baby boy, gave a yelp of excitement every single time he went up and clapped for a repeat every time he landed. The former Iron Maiden returned to her task of folding the basketful of laundry before her. Behind her, the raven-colored, longhaired man let out a noise to express himself, "Tch."

He made such a noise when he disapproved of something. She knew what he was thinking with just that simple sound, their time together has taught her the importance of his grunts and intonation as it spoke volumes. In her own head, she could pretty much hear a series of reprimands about social standings and Tao Family Expectations which all summed up to, "We have maids to do that." But she didn't care, it soothed her. The maids could do everything else but folding the laundry has always been her thing to do even when she ran around with the X-Laws, she insisted that she was the one to bleach out the stains from their uniform and folding them up to put them into their respective places. She liked the thought that everything had its own particular place.

Hers was by Ren's side. Or so she liked to believe.

Unbeknownst to her, Ren had been watching Jeanne as her delicate little fingers tried to pry the ironing board out of the closet. Men smiled at him, the mischievous little guy had an evil grin, which caught his father's attention.

The gray-haired boy held in his hand the levy gear that helped the board roll out. A smirk crawled across Ren's face. Inside he was laughing aloud, his wife's struggle was all that much more amusing because his son was absurdly good at being a trickster. He couldn't wait for his friends to meet him with envy in their eyes, especially Yoh and HoroHoro; the thought caused him to let out a little, "Hn."

Jeanne whipped around, recognizing the mocking laughter of her husband although he wasn't really into laughing unless it was really filled with ill intent. How dare he laugh at her! Or at least she was pretty sure it was she whom was being laughed at.

She huffed at him; he was refusing to look at her, but at the joyous Men in his lap. He was playing the silent game with her was he? Then she would give him the cold shoulder as well. Ha! How do you like them apples, Tao Ren? Yes, she knew she was playing unreasonable and childish but it was her way of seeming like she was there to him or so she thought. Ren really did see her as a beautiful woman and very capable shaman. He also cared about her in a way that would turn his ears red if he even thought about it, but whenever she did _anything_ really he was kind of went weak in the knees and never knew what to do about her. Of course, he would never actually admit such weakness because Taos were _never_ weak under any circumstance; such an idea in itself was ridiculous.

The front doorbell rang and Ren wondered in exasperation why they even bothered to buy a vacation home out in the countryside of France if they were still going to have people be a nuisance to them. The silver-haired woman watched as he held their son in the crook of his arm while he swung open the wooden door. On their porch stood a man probably trying to sell some thing or another.

As the Frenchman greeted them graciously, Ren responded with a heartless, "Hmph."

In Jeanne's mind the sound was an evil plethora of dark, merciless emotions as it can express a multitude of things with various tones. She angrily gave one last tug at the ironing board before deciding to give up and glare at it in contempt.

Never before had she hated an inanimate object with such vigor. Her attention returned to her husband.

Ren was absurdly grateful that he was the one answering the door, as Jeanne would've probably given the man anything he had asked for in a heartbeat. That girl would hardly bat an eye at a murder she committed back when she was fourteen but now her beautiful red orbs would water up if Ren squished a mosquito. All of it was so ridiculous to him and while the wheedling man was talking, Ren firmly shut the door in his face and turned away, to which Men had celebrated the rather refreshing breeze created with a clap of his little hands. Ren didn't blame him as his room was sweltering in the summer heat, which would make anyone bipolar with the changing temperature. Even his sweet Jeanne snapped at everyone when she felt too hot.

From the moment that Ren had responded with his skeptical noise as a greeting, Jeanne knew not to expect much and had sighed in a tired manner. She had realized that he was cynical and bored of the man from the start.

Long ago, and through the hard way, the former icon of the X-Laws had learned that if Ren was uninterested and judgmental she would never be able to convince him of anything. So unless she could wrestle him into trusting or managing to pull his curiosity then it was a lost cause no matter what. By now, she had learned that she could twist his arm far enough to get what she wanted if he hums, "Mm."

That little indicator was great but what was even better was even better was when he softly agrees with whatever she says with a "Hm" because it was proof that he had absolutely no idea what she had been asking and he didn't care even the slightest bit. She could spend a whole afternoon shopping for clothes with Men and he would have absolutely no right for his hair to get angry as he had "agreed" while doing this and that when she had asked with her best pout. He'd sigh in resignation.

His wife was able to drive him daffy with everything she did. Whether it be dancing or smiling demurely, she had this presence that made him stumble over his words and his thoughts always died down to a simmering, pleasant buzz as if he was drunk on her natural perfume that reminded him of a fresh rain and honeysuckle. Naturally, he sighed into the thought until he shook himself off and handed her Men before announcing, "I'm buying a fan."

"Wait—?" Jeanne deflated as her husband left her alone. She puffed out a sigh of exasperation and Men stated rather factually, "Horse-y."

She laughed and nodded as she cheered him on like a good mother ought to when her child behaves smartly. Slowly, she lowered her beloved child into his playpen as she went over a recipe in her head for a roasted lamb that she thought Ren would enjoy while sweeping the floor. Although nearly entirely vegetarian, the red-eyed Shaman still cooked meat to satisfy her husband and grinned at the thought of his satisfied noise.

It wasn't any particular hum but rather a specified chuckle mixed with a contented sigh. Men himself had nearly mastered it whenever Jeanne had given him exactly what he wanted and that made his parents amused and pleased. Secretly, the proud mother hen would sometimes take over Jeanne and she would submit to temptation and write to Anna although she was just barely coming out of hiding and tell her all about her child's exploits and what she's heard about Hana from Tamao's letters. The girls had their own network of communication unbeknownst to their men. It was all about timing and signals.

A song came on the radio and Jeanne began to hum along as her thoughts drifted away from Anna's latest postcard.

Later, when Ren finally arrived home with a box underneath his arm, he found his wife singing and twirling about as she went around the house, putting away the laundry. He tossed the small fan aside and placed his keys on top as Jeanne slipped into a mindless waltz to which Men was entranced by as he stared open-mouthed at his mother's grace.

Smooth as silk, Ren slipped his large hand around her petite palm and fell into step. She gasped. He loved that: whenever she had that surprised look on her face he felt like he had disturbed that constantly tranquil façade that she always had on. When this happened, he would admit with a smirk, he knew the only person who could get under her skin and disturb her perfect order and religious dedication was he and it would always be that way. Her flawless little "O" shaped lips fell into a gracious smile. He gulped. This, he would never admit in as long as blood flowed in his veins, was the best part of marrying Jeanne; seeing her smile at something that he did. For a moment, whether long or short, he would feel forgiven for his past and he could forget that the demented little boy who killed his heart over and over again was not himself, never him. Then it would pass and he would crave her enchanting delight once more. Until then, this moment was theirs.

Satisfied by the content grinning and their peaceful little life, Ren smiled, honestly, "Hn."


End file.
